He thought he was going to have to repeat himself when Kio let out a long, shaky breath and nodded. Kio’s own hands were sheathed in full black gloves. Technically illegal, but Jedao had no intention of reporting him or the house to the Kel. As a point of fact, he’d chosen this house because of its willingness to indulge this particular taste.
For a moment, Jedao wasn’t certain this was going to work out. It sometimes didn’t. Prostitutes, and lovers for that matter, usually assumed he wanted to give orders in bed. As if, after spending all day giving orders, he wanted to do it while fucking, too.
Then Kio reached down and grabbed Jedao’s right hand, and placed it over his groin. “You know how to use your mouth, fledge? Show me.” His voice was harsh.
Jedao groaned in the back of his throat at the address. “Sir,” he breathed. He hadn’t received permission to unglove, so he didn’t. Instead, he hooked his thumbs into Kio’s waistband, then unbuttoned his fly and drew out the other man’s cock. Not hard, not yet. He could do something about that.
He teased the head of Kio’s cock with his tongue, then took the whole thing into his mouth and sucked greedily. Kio was unnervingly silent. Jedao was determined to please him, though. He used his tongue to caress Kio’s cock until he became hard and his shaft pushed into Jedao’s throat. Erect, Kio was quite large, and Jedao’s throat ached, but he didn’t dare pull back.
Jedao himself was already uncomfortably erect. Although he was tempted to reach down and jerk himself off, or rearrange himself, he didn’t have permission to do that either. He meant to be very literal about his orders. He longed to reach up and cradle Kio’s balls in his hand, but even that hadn’t been mentioned. Use your mouth.
Kio had noticed Jedao’s arousal. “You like this, don’t you, fledge?”
It was difficult to answer around a mouthful of cock, so Jedao confined himself to a nod. Kio shoved him away, not gently, and withdrew. Jedao glanced at Kio’s saliva-slick length before casting his eyes down, wondering what he’d done wrong. He had wanted to make Kio come, even if he didn’t dare hope—yet—that he’d be permitted the same.
Jedao raised his head and looked at Kio’s face when the silence started to worry him.
Kio’s expression was thoughtful. He grasped Jedao’s hand again. This time, he pressed his own palm against it, as if making a comparison. He smiled, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Sir?” Jedao said, very softly.
“Give me your gloves,” Kio said. And when Jedao hesitated: “Now.”
Jedao had expected this moment to arrive, just not so early in the encounter. A thrill went down his spine as he ungloved. He’d always felt more vulnerable with naked hands. It was a common Kel foible—except, of course, he wasn’t Kel.
Kio folded the half-gloves neatly and set them on the edge of the bed. Next he removed his own gloves. Jedao’s breath caught at the sight of Kio’s long hands and their calluses. (Jedao didn’t allow himself to think about the source of the calluses: probably from playing a musical instrument, not from familiarity with firearms.) Then Kio did something unexpected: he held the full black gloves out to Jedao.
Suddenly Jedao’s erection felt enormous. It seemed impossible that he’d be able to control himself. “Sir?”
“Put them on, fledge.”
Jedao faltered. “I’m not—”
Kio slapped him full across the face with his free hand. Jedao tasted blood. It was all he could do to keep from coming right then and there, fully clothed except for his hands.
“Fledge.”
“Yes, sir,” Jedao said, dizzy, and pulled on Kio’s gloves. He bit back a whimper at the way the charmeuse silk clung to his fingers. With the half-gloves he was used to being able to feel every chance current of air. No longer.
Kio hauled Jedao to his feet. Despite his slender build, he was surprisingly strong. “Jack yourself off,” he said. “With the gloves on. I want to watch.”
Jedao’s first two attempts to undo his fly failed because his hands were shaking violently. Kio slapped him again, which had the paradoxical effect of steadying him. He hissed between his teeth as he pulled his cock out and closed his fingers around it. Silk; the whisper of fabric against his overheated skin.
Kio’s eyes were hot and merciless. Jedao began stroking his shaft, up and down, up and down, torn between savoring the sensation and the urgency already building in his balls. I’m not seventeen anymore, he thought wildly. How—? But thinking was too difficult, and he focused again on masturbating so Kio could watch.
The air in the room was hot and cold at once, kaleidoscopic with the promise of unbearable pleasure. Jedao choked back a cry when Kio closed the distance between them and gathered him into a completely unmilitary embrace. Kio’s kisses were brutal, and involved teeth. He left marks all the way down the side of Jedao’s face. When he reached the scar at the base of Jedao’s neck, Jedao’s control gave way completely, and he began to come.
Even then Kio wasn’t done. He disengaged neatly and knelt so that Jedao’s come landed in white, sticky spurts all over the black silk, the golden chains. Jedao staggered. He’d dirtied the beautiful ersatz uniform. He looked down and saw that he’d also gotten stains on the silk gloves. Despite the fact that he’d just climaxed, his cock stirred at the sight.
“We’re going to do this all night,” Kio said directly into his ear. Jedao’s heart thumped painfully. He had forgotten that he had paid for all night.
IN THE MORNING, after Jedao had left, Kio retrieved a slate from under the bed and made a call. No one spoke on the other end; he did not give his name. He said only, “Shuos-zho was right about his tastes.” Then he closed the line, put the slate away, and went to clean up for the next client.
Author’s Note
For someone who likes to think of himself as being very smart, Jedao is terrible at a lot of things, and not just distinguishing perfume notes. Or maybe it’s just that I think it’s hilarious to write the archetypal high-Intelligence, low-Wisdom character. I’m pretty convinced that Wisdom was Jedao’s dump stat.
I originally wrote this to blow off steam: some nice PWP (“Plot? What plot?” as fandom likes to call it) instead of unknotting the latest snarl of intrigue. This grew out of the thought that Jedao’s inconvenient uniform kink could have been much less of a weakness if he’d just visited some accommodating prostitutes (I’m sure they’ve seen weirder things). But of course, nothing’s ever that simple.
Hunting Trip
“ZOO?” HIGH GENERAL Garit said. “Really, Jedao?”
Jedao, who was driving the car, glanced over to assess Garit’s expression, although the high general’s tone of voice told him everything he needed to know. Garit had invited him along on this damned trip to a hunting preserve because Garit was desperate to bag a gray tiger. Alongside his record with firearms, Jedao had made the mistake of letting drop that he had grown up hunting. He had tried to point out that going after pesky deer and jackalopes was not the same as gray tigers, but Garit had merely clapped him on the back and told him not to be so modest. Modesty had nothing to do with it. On top of the stupid expense per round, the recoil on the ammo that Jedao was going to have to use was proportionate to something with its stopping power, and he wasn’t looking forward to the ache in his shoulder.